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by Nununununu



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Armor, Brainwashing, Clothed Sex, Dark, Don't copy to another site, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Hand Jobs, Masturbation, Mild Painplay, Power Play, Pre-Canon, Rough Sex, Training, Translation into Русский available, Vaginal Fingering, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:29:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23477767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nununununu/pseuds/Nununununu
Summary: It is undeniably pleasing, the power she holds over him.
Relationships: Finn/Phasma
Comments: 8
Kudos: 17
Collections: Party in the GFFA: Star Wars Flash Exchange 2020





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**Author's Note:**

  * For [K_Popsicle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/K_Popsicle/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [Онемевший](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26086309) by [fandom SW IX - Duel of the Fates 2020 (Our_Own_Star_Wars)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Our_Own_Star_Wars/pseuds/fandom%20SW%20IX%20-%20Duel%20of%20the%20Fates%202020), [Izverg](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Izverg/pseuds/Izverg)



> For the prompt 'Phasma has an itch to scratch and abuses her authority and superior strength to get the job done.'

“FN-2187.”

He has such potential. It’s a source of frequent frustration to her that he refuses to _use_ it. There’s something there – a spark that keeps rising inside him, however she does her utmost to see it smoothed out.

“Captain?” His voice is uncertain on the first syllable before he remembers and firms his chin, raising his head, the second syllable ringing out the way it should. Calm. Clear. Ready for instruction.

Inside his armour, she is nonetheless certain he is currently none of these things.

“Special training,” Phasma is accustomed to resisting the urge to curl her fingers into fists. It would not do to strike him, not over this – or not yet.

“Yes Captain!” At least his answer is appropriately prompt. Hoping to please. A shadow of doubt there, all the same.

“I have selected you especially for this,” Phasma knows when to boost his ego, when to crush him down without qualm. She is confident she will mould him into shape soon enough.

Although his inconstancy and occasional resistance is infuriating, a part of her doesn’t want to rush. It is undeniably pleasing, the power she holds over him.

She leads FN-2187 to an empty training room, as such, and doesn’t bother to listen for the sound of his footsteps as he follows her; she knows he does. When the door seals shut behind them, he is so ready for her fist to land on the side of his helmet, he appears almost grateful as he hits the floor.

Phasma has no desire to remove his armour. The spread of his limbs as she kneels on top of him tells her so much more than his face ever would.

“Captain?” A different question enters his voice when she lets her cloak fall down around them and catches his hand, one he knows better than to name.

“You demonstrated undesirable behaviour during today’s training,” Phasma informs him, her tone steady and cool, even as she guides his gloved fingers into undoing the catch that holds the armour at her pelvis in place, “You hesitate and you second-guess, when you should be ruthless.”

“I don’t –” FN-2187 also knows better than to resist. He takes over obediently when Phasma makes a brief sound of impatience, tugging open the form-fitting suit she wears underneath just enough so the pads of his fingers brush her crotch.

“No,” Phasma says, and it isn’t in response to the touch, but to his half-spoken enquiry. “Harder.” This is.

_But wouldn’t you –_ FN-2187 might as well also ask. Grabbing his hand, she angles it appropriately and sinks down on the two fingers he knows to extend.

It doesn’t matter that her body isn’t fully ready for it herself; her mind is. Even within the privacy her helmet, Phasma doesn’t let herself wince.

_Shouldn’t I remove my gloves?_ FN-2187 doesn’t ask this either, although he will go back to his fellow trainees smelling of her and with the evidence of the encounter upon the thick material.

The rub of the glove is coarse within her as Phasma grinds down, and exhales in place of a groan. Her body is wakening despite itself in response to the stimulation and she wants – she _wants_ –

“May I?” FN-2187 crooks his fingers inside her just a little, and Phasma almost grunts at the burst of pleasure.

She regains control an instant after.

“Showing initiative will not necessarily be punished,” This is a warning to him, a part of the lesson, “But first tell me of your reasoning for the request. A desire to make it – more comfortable? Easier?”

“I want to help you feel good,” He sounds ashamed as he whispers the confession. As well he should.

“ _You are_ _not to indulge in empathy_ ,” Hissing, Phasma presses her fist hard against his chest even as she starts to brusquely ride his hand, her body reacting enough now to ease the chafe of his glove, “You are not to concern yourself over what another person might _feel_. That is irrelevant. All that matters is –”

He completes it for her, as he is supposed to, “Following orders.”

“Yes,” She almost laughs, a single, silent puff, “Yes.”

_Good boy._

There is a hint of it there in her tone; she senses him reacts to this.

“And your orders are, Captain?” _There_ , that is the confidence in him that she wants.

He already knows this answer, but she says it anyway, “Make me come.”

“ _Yes_ , Captain,” The angle can’t be easy for him, but he manages to get his thumb on her clit anyway, thrusting his fingers up into her at the pace she sets, his back straightening with pride beneath her as he picks up on her unvoiced appreciation.

“ _Kriff_ ,” Phasma orgasms as she does everything else – at once forceful yet precise, without excess fuss.

“Ah –” It is the shift of his armour and not the faint noise he makes that informs her he is also aroused.

“Do it,” Phasma orders when she has fastened her clothing and armour back up, “With the same hand.”

“Yes Captain!” There is gratitude and conviction in his tone as he fumbles at his own crotch, and it is pleasing to see how efficiently he comes.

To her further approval, he doesn’t allow himself the time to sprawl on the floor that he so obviously wants afterwards, but tidies himself up as best as he can, standing to attention and saluting her once he is done.

“Go,” She inclines her head.

It is clear in his body language how pleased he is at having succeeded in this lesson. For now, Phasma will allow him this belief.

FN-2187 will do better at training tomorrow, she is sure of it. But when he slips up again, as he almost inevitably will, Phasma will be there to help remedy it.


End file.
